


Wilford and the temple of Thuxanex

by Broken_Story_locker



Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Jungle temple exploration, Mark acting strange, Pre-WKM Wilford, Who Killed Markiplier?, mention of the affair, slight mistreatment of ancient artifacts, unlikely to be continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 07:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17178257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Story_locker/pseuds/Broken_Story_locker





	Wilford and the temple of Thuxanex

It was a great day for Wilford as he hiked through Murder Forest at midnight on Friday the thirteenth under a full moon. Good thing he had an absolutely useless grasp on time keeping because otherwise he would have locked himself in his house, for superstitious reasons. He may or may not have pissed off some werewolves. Maybe.  
*howling in the distance*  
Walking a little faster, Wilford eventually found what he was searching for.  
The Temple of Thuxanex. Not to be confused with 'the temple of xanax', the tasteless LA rave club. No, Thuxanex was an ancient god from a culture whose time passed long ago. Very few relics survived to the modern era after numerous catastrophes and mishaps, even less were known to the public. Wilford being the person that he was, had access to such restricted things. He spent many sleepless nights sifting through mysterious symbols and glyphs before reaching a breakthrough. It wasn't the treasure that spoke to him, it was the possibility for adventure.  
He stands now at the carved stone entrance to the temple, delicately running fingers along the worn granite, soaking in the details. He scrunched his eyes to focus. Attempting to read the inscription carved into the doorway proved fruitless and made him slightly regret not becoming a linguist beforehand. A peek inside the structure with a lantern presented a sheer drop into leaf litter and darkness. Far too far to jump.  
'Humm, the floor appears to have collapsed into the levels below it. Better get out my climbing kit.' Wilford thought to himself.  
Several knots, clasps, and hooks later, he began the descend into the temple.

Twenty feet from touching the ground the rope snapped. In a case of improper planning the rope had wedged between a pair of sharp debris causing every move to saw through the rope a little more until total failure. He plummeted onto soft dirt and gravel. A puff of dust flew up from the impact, dissipating like breath on a chilly night. Wilford stood up awkwardly. Although bruised Wil and his supplies were unharmed. Looking from where he had just came all that he saw was a reflection of the darkness that he saw when he looked from above. Thinking about the time it took to get down there, the entrance was at least a two-hundred-and-fifty vertical feet up, given where the rope was and that the walls were smooth as silk for most of the distance, it would nearly impossible to exit that way.  
“Well then! I guess I will have to find a different way out later.” he says to himself.  
Scanning the area reviled three hallways leading in separate directions. Entering the middle passage northward he sought to go deeper into the catacombs.  
Illuminated by the light of a head lamp the walls told stories of drunken celebrations and sacrifice, not unlike the tombs in Egypt. Wil reasoned that it was most likely an intriguing religious text. Multiple somebodies had to have spent years lost in the pain staking detail that lined the solid walls. It made him wonder what it would have been like to be there. Then again, it’s not like he didn’t already get shitfaced at some unusual parties on occasion. Still moving forward he basked in the ominous beauty of the spanning mural. After what felt like forever a soft blue light started to become visible from the other end of the tight hall. Curious, Wilford cautiously jogged to where the glow was emanating.  
The passage opened to a gigantic space with towering pillars and decorative tiled floor, as big as two football fields or more. At the center taking up most of the floor space was deep pool of water producing the aforementioned blue hue. The place was magical.  
Joints aching from the trek he decided that this was a perfect time to go for a swim. After slipping off his bags he took a running dive, fully clothed, into the mysterious water. Upon resurfacing he spat out a jet, transitioning into a backstroke. 

“Ah, This is the life.” he uttered.  
Drifting lazily he reminisced fondly about the times he spent down at the old lake house with Mark and Damian. Damian nearly pulled a ‘bridge to terabithia’ on the rope swing one time. It scared the living daylights out of Mark and him, seeing their friend unconscious on the shore. Thinking he was dead they panicked and tried to hide the evidence. Damian woke up several minutes later as he was being stuffed inside of a hollow tree. It turned out that he had only sustained a minor concussion and was fine after seeing a doctor. They were livid back then, but now they can laugh about their childhood antics.  
Wilford worried about Mark. As the years passed he seemed to grow more and more distant. Wil was no stranger to the occult but something didn’t feel right about the way Mark talked about it. It was like he thought of it as a Knife more than a hammer as a tool. He would stay locked in his study for weeks on end only leaving to use the bathroom and sneak food from the pantry. When asked about it he would reply with a half assed grumbled excuse. Mark’s reclusivity was taking a toll on the relationship he had with his fiance Celine. Though Wilford was somewhat known to roll in the hay frequently, he drew a line when it came to Celine and Mark. Celine was becoming noticeably frustrated with Mark’s recent antisocial behavior. Then a week before leaving on exploration, Celine made out with Wil. It was spontaneous, pleasant at first, but once his morals made it through the liquor of his mind he had her stop. That was too far. He apologized and fled. And now, now that he was alone, he was able to think.


End file.
